


Poison

by Stromsun



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Abuse, Ernesto is manipulative and abusiv, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Graphic description of poisoning, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add tags as they come up, I'm not planning on being too graphic with the non con, Poisoning, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, but if it gets worse i'll bump up the rating, supportive family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-03-09 08:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13477842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stromsun/pseuds/Stromsun
Summary: Hector's memories surrounding his death were a little more spotty than he'd like to admit. Recent events dredge up old memories. Though reunited with his family, Hector finds himself struggling to cope with a century of hurt.





	1. Recollection

**Author's Note:**

> *Warning* There is non-con in this chapter. It's not explicit, but it's there.  
> Hector's memories surrounding his death are a little more spotty than he'd like to admit. Hector remembers.
> 
> Constructive Criticism welcomed! 
> 
> https://stromsun.tumblr.com/

"Don't you want to support your family, Héctor? How will you do that at home when music is all you're good for?"

 

"I don't know, Ernesto, but Imelda and I will figure something out! I need to go home! Hate me if you want; I'm leaving."

 

Then, an offer of a toast. Héctor was uncomfortable with how quickly Ernesto's demeanor changed, but he decided to stay, for old time's sake. Ernesto was, after all, like a brother to him. The walk to the train station was uneventful, until

 

Pain. Pain, Pain, _Pain_.

 

He felt Ernesto supporting him, distantly heard Ernesto suggest that they go back to the motel, make sure he's okay.

 

Where was he? He saw the motel ceiling spinning above him. Impossibly, the pain grew. He gagged, tasted blood in the back of his throat. Every muscle in his body burned.

 

He felt hands wandering over him. "Wha --," he began, only to be hushed.

 

_"Lo siento, mi amigo_ ," Ernesto murmured "I'm sorry you've made me do this. If I cannot have you, then no one can. I need your music."

 

A tender embrace. Agony as muscles seized. He could only feel tingling where his hands and feet had been, could barely feel the gentle kiss. Hands…hands burning trails on his body. No. No, don't. Stop. He wanted to plead, to shout, but all that came from him were choked sobs. Finally, after an eternity, Héctor Rivera gasped his final breath.

 

He woke up dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Symptoms described are acute arsenic poisoning.


	2. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Héctor wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have kudos?!?! What?
> 
> I'm really enjoying writing this, which is weird, because I've hated writing my whole life! Thanks for the support, everyone! :) I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, but I do plan for there to be a happy ending eventually. 
> 
> Hector has his own room in the Rivera household. Imelda and Hector are on good terms, but their relationship isn't quite repaired to the point of sharing a room/bed.

Héctor woke up screaming. Everything hurt, even the memory of his muscles burned. Belatedly, he clamped a hand over his mouth. He frantically attempted to untangle himself from the sheets that had twisted around him. Hopefully he hadn't woken --

 

A knock at the door. Well, there goes that thought.

 

"Héctor? Are you alright? What happened?"

 

Imelda. Of course he had woken her.

 

"That was Héctor?" Okay. Voices in stereo; Oscar and Felipe woke up too.

 

"What's going on? We heard screaming!" Did everyone wake up?

 

He opened his mouth to reassure them, to ask for help, to do _anything_ , but he couldn't breathe. He still tasted blood. Instantly, he pitched forward, gagging. Which was stupid, he distantly observed. The dead don't have stomachs to vomit with.

 

"Héctor, I'm coming in!"

 

The door to his small room swung open, and in strode Imelda.

 

"Héctor? What is wrong?" That was Imelda. He wanted to answer. He wanted to stand up. He --

 

_"I just wanted to go home! No! No!"_

 

_He was falling, falling, falling into the sinkhole._

 

A sob ripped through him. Then another. Imelda rushed to his side, and shame burned through him when he flinched from her hand. She only hesitated for a moment before pulling him to her and wrapping him in her arms. His bones rattled to his shaking in an almost melodic fashion. He would laugh if he could catch his breath between sobs. Even now, remembering his worst moment in life, he couldn't help but make music.

 

Oscar and Felipe's voices were telling the others to go back to bed. Imelda swayed slightly, whispering comforting words to him.

 

"It's okay, it's okay, _mi amor_."

 

It really wasn't. It hadn't been okay for nearly a century. It hadn't been okay from the moment he walked out the door of his home and left Coco and Imelda.

 

Héctor wept.

 


	3. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for something nice to happen!

The shop that morning was quiet. Héctor spent the time blankly staring at customers coming and going. Imelda spent the time watching Héctor watch the customers. The rest of their family spent the time anxiously watching both Héctor and Imelda.

Just as everyone reached their breaking point, Imelda's voice cut through the tension.

"Héctor."

Héctor instantly unfolded from his seat, "Yes, Imelda?"

"Come here. I have something for you."

Héctor followed Imelda into the back room. Once there, Imelda held out a box. "I went with size 12, narrow, pronated, since that was what you were…before." Héctor hesitantly took the box and gently removed the lid. Inside was a pair of Riveras' finest shoes. On top lay a note that simply stated, "Welcome Home."

Héctor looked as though he had been handed the world. After a moment of dumbfounded staring, he threw his arms around Imelda. Beaming he took a step back and inspected the shoes more closely. "Imelda, I -- I -- LOOK at these stitches! The quality of the leather! The… " On and on he went, waxing poetic about the quality of the Rivera craftsmanship (though he knew nothing about shoes, and both he and Imelda knew that).

All heads turned to the door as Imelda and Héctor returned. "How did it go, Imelda?" Asked Rosita. Imelda smirked.

Then she rolled her eyes in feigned exasperation when Héctor burst into an impromptu song about Rivera shoes.

They would be okay. Despite whatever had happened with Héctor the night before, Imelda was sure everything would be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector is not coping, and the tension in the Rivera household snaps like a guitar string.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to format dialogue lol. Also, I hate naming chapters, so I kinda gave up. Anyway, find my fic blog on tumblr, we can talk about this fic or literally anything else.  
> https://stromsun.tumblr.com/
> 
> It's only been like maybe a month max since Dia de los Muertos so everything is really fresh.

A week had passed. Though Héctor seemed to initially bounce back the morning after the nightmare, his mood rapidly deteriorated during the next few days. He wasn't sleeping, that was for sure; Imelda, who slept in the room next to his, could hear the floor creak under his pacing at all hours of the night. The others caught him dozing at tables and in chairs. They'd try to leave him in peace, but he'd inevitably jerk awake as though from a nightmare. He attempted to write music a few times but simply wound up staring at the empty papers in frustration. Mostly he just seemed to be trapped in a fog of apathy. None of them could seem to get more than a weak smile out of him.

Imelda finally had enough of Héctor's moping around the house and shop. She was going to get to the root of the problem, and in true Imelda Rivera fashion, she took a direct approach.

"Héctor, what is going on?"

Héctor slowly dragged his gaze to her. "What do you mean Imelda?"

"I mean, you have seemed upset ever since that nightmare last week."

"It's nothing, Imelda, don't worry." Héctor could be stubborn when he wanted to. Police records of a century's worth of attempts to cross the marigold bridge attested to that.

"It's obviously not nothing!" Imelda, was just as, if not more, stubborn than Héctor.

"Imelda, just drop it! I don't want to talk about it!" Héctor moved to leave the room. Imelda grabbed his humerus to stop him from leaving.

 _Hands on his arms_. Héctor's mind went blank with panic and fury. "Don't touch me," He spat, slapping her hand away.

Silence. The sound of someone in the other room dropping a needle. Imelda stared in shock at Héctor, who looked absolutely stricken. In life and death, Héctor had rarely resorted to violence, and he had certainly never, _ever_ laid a hand on Imelda. Despite only being a slap on the wrist, the action was so out of character for Héctor that the couple could barely comprehend what had just happened.

"I-I I'm sorry," Héctor gasped before turning and fleeing from the house.

The rest of the family glanced nervously at each other. Someone needed to speak to the two of them. With a nod, Oscar and Felipe strode into the adjacent room to comfort Imelda. Julio silently slipped off his stool and trailed after Héctor.

Julio found Héctor leaning against a railing overlooking a river down the street from the shop. The other man was breathing heavily and shaking.

"You know," Julio began tentatively, "I used to bottle up all of my problems, but Coco told me that family is here to share your burdens. Eventually, she got me to open up more, and talking solved a lot of our problems." By the end of his statement, his voice had gained a surprising amount of confidence. Coco always had a way of bringing the best out of Julio, even when absent.

"She always was a smart girl," Héctor managed.

A pause.

"I can't tell her. Imelda, I mean."

"Why not?"

"I - I don't want. I don't want to lose her again. But I'm losing her anyway, aren't I?"

"No, Héctor. She is simply worried for you. We all are…Maybe you could tell one of us what's going on, and we can help you tell Imelda? Or you could write a letter to her?"

"That…sounds like it might work. Maybe. I can try?"

"That's all anyone can ask of you, Héctor."

 

The father and his son-in-law sat side-by-side on the railings. Héctor began to speak. Julio listened. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julio and Hector talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sick, so I'm proud I actually got this written haha.  
> Let me know if any of this is out of character or should be changed. Like I said before, I have no idea how to edit dialogue.  
> I'm stromsun on tumblr, so if you want to talk to me about this fic, feel free to do so!
> 
> EDIT: Apparently AO3 hates formatting and got rid of all of mine. If it's not readable, let me know and I'll keep trying to fix it. Otherwise, I'm just going to leave it.

"How much do you know about Ernesto de la Cruz?"

"Well, he was very popular back in the day. Also, there was that memorable night last month when he stole your photo and tried to murder our Miguel."

Growing up, Héctor and Ernesto didn't really have anyone else in their lives. They were okay with that. They were thick as thieves, and always in trouble with the nuns at the orphanage.

 "We were…close, growing up. He was like a brother to me."

Things changed after Héctor met Imelda.

At first, Ernesto had teased the younger boy about his first 'crush'; however, when it became apparent that Héctor was looking for more than just a hook up, Ernesto became discouraging.

 "Looking back, I should have known something was wrong when he actively disapproved of my courtship with Imelda. But you know what they say about hindsight." A bitter chuckle. "She used to throw rocks at suitors. Ernesto said she would never listen to me. Said I'd get a rock in the face. 'She will listen. She will listen to music,' I told him. And she did. We married a year later and had Coco the next year. That…was the happiest I've ever been, in life or death."

 "Why did you leave, if you were so happy, Papá Héctor?" That was something that had bothered Julio ever since he met Coco. Why would that nameless man leave his wife and child? The decision seemed mind boggling to Julio, who knew with certainty that he'd never even consider such a thing. Imelda had claimed his departure was in the pursuit of fame. Julio thought maybe the then unknown man had been unable to commit to fatherhood, which now that he knew Héctor, seemed absurd. 

               Héctor hesitated. He didn't want to sound like he was making excuses for his mistake. "Leaving was…a mistake that was my fault, and mine alone. See, when we were younger, Ernesto and I dreamed of leaving Santa Ceclia and playing music for the world. I think he wanted fame and fortune, but I just wanted to share my passion with others. A few years after Coco was born, Ernesto approached me with the idea of touring and performing our music, but I refused. He…did not react well. He even accused me of abandoning our friendship! I just didn't want to leave Imelda alone with Coco -- she was so young! But over the months, Ernesto persisted. I still didn't want to go but…Ernesto brought up finances. He said that if we gained enough popularity, we could make a decent amount of money. And - and even though I still hesitated, I thought he was right. He said that I could support Coco and Imelda. Which, um, was becoming more and more difficult. Playing on Mariachi Plaza in a small town didn't pay well…"

               That was an understatement, but Julio didn't need to know about that. Héctor had been struggling to put food on the table. He'd even told Imelda he wasn't hungry some nights, just so there was more for her and Coco.

               "I see. You just wanted to support your family."

"Besides Ernesto, they were the only family I'd ever had. Of course I wanted to do right by them. I was homesick the moment the train from Santa Ceilia left the station. At first, when I mentioned wanting to go home, Ernesto would point out that our plan was going well. We were making money, and we had momentum in gaining popularity. We weren't well known enough to draw the attention of any major record companies, but people came to our performances. I was able to provide an income for my family.

               But after a while, it wasn't enough. I began to miss home more and more. Ernesto said, 'one more town,' every time I brought it up. Then, he began to get…irritated when I spoke of my family. Eventually, uh, I was a bit afraid to even mention home to him." Irritated was another understatement. Ernesto had become prone to explosive anger and had been rapidly becoming more and more physical in expressing his displeasure. "I also didn't want to lose his friendship; he was still like a brother to me. Pretty pathetic, no?"

               Before Julio could comment, Héctor continued. Héctor seemed to be talking mainly to himself at this point.

               "When I was leaving, he asked to give me a toast to bid me farewell. I should have left. I should have -- well, it doesn't really matter what I should have done. I was desperate to keep our friendship and part on good terms, so I accepted. I have no idea why he even had poison. Maybe it was rat poison the motel owners left out? Ach, who cares. I drank. Just another mistake in a long list of stupid mistakes."

               Julio didn't know what to say. He felt extremely out of his depth. How could he, a man who died at 68 in his sleep, say anything to help a man who had been poisoned at 21?

               "I. I didn't. I didn't die right away?" It was almost phrased like a question. "It took a long time. At least it felt like a long time? And Ernesto, he…he…It hurt! I didn't really remember what happened after I first felt the pain and collapsed on the street. I um, assumed I just died there. In the street, you know? But he. Ernesto, he. Um, anyway. It hurt a lot. And I guess the other night when I woke everyone up, I was just remembering. What really happened. So, I guess that's why I've been acting strange this past week. I just can't stop thinking about all of that."

Héctor looked at Julio for the first time since beginning to speak. Though timid, Julio was a shrewd man. He knew Héctor avoided telling him something. Julio wasn't sure what to say, but he did know one thing: "None of this, or whatever else happened, was your fault. Sure, maybe you shouldn't have left, but you were doing what you thought was best for your family. I forgive you. Coco would say the same."

Héctor started wide-eyed at his son-in-law. He was expecting yelling, blame, anything but this. After a century of being blamed by his family and himself, forgiveness was almost too much to wrap his head around. Not even Imelda had forgiven him yet. Sure, Miguel had, and that meant a great deal to Héctor, but…

               "I-I think I need to take a walk. Is it okay? If I go visit Shantytown? I'll be back this evening. Just tell the others - um. I'll be back."

               "Okay, Héctor. If you need a break, that's okay. When you come back, we can talk to the others."

               Julio watched Héctor limp away. He turned to go back into the shop. Neither of them felt the pair of eyes watching them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun....
> 
> Yeah, Hector kind of...didn't even bring up the real problem. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Can you blame the guy?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector takes a walk. It goes about as well as the rest of his life has gone so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up.

Héctor made his way through the winding streets, intent on making it back home as quickly as possible. His time visiting Shantytown had been a welcome relief from the tense atmosphere at home. Of course, the Nearly Forgotten had noticed that something was bothering Héctor, but they didn't pry too much; After all, everyone in Shantytown had their baggage. Eventually he was able to relax a bit and join in on some singing and dancing, then he joined some of his _primos_ in a card game and some drinks. Now, however, he regretted losing track of time. It was way past evening and far into the night, and he had told Julio that he would be home by evening. Imelda would be furious. This was not how a responsible adult and father should be behaving.

Voices around the bend warned him of an approaching group. He ducked into an alley way. Ever since Ernesto's treachery was revealed, Héctor had become a minor celebrity, and though he'd always been popular in Shantytown and infamous among the cops, he found that he abhorred stardom. Sure, performing for crowds was great, but it was sharing the music that made those performances thrilling. Random questioning on the street? Propositions and harassment through fan letters? No, he cringed at the very idea. How had Ernesto lived like this? Of course, Ernesto had probably loved it. All that man ever did was take and take. A never-ending supply of attention would have been just what he wanted. Héctor scowled and kicked a rock, which bounced off a trash can leaning against the wall at the end of the ally. Wait, end of the ally? It was a dead end. Héctor must be one ally over from the one he thought he –

"Seems like something's on your mind, _amigo_. Care to share with the rest of the class?"

Héctor froze. He knew that voice.

 

_Laughter as they ran from one of the Sisters at the orphanage. It was a warm spring day, and they had just pulled the most marvelous prank --_

_"To our friendship. I would move heaven and earth for you,_ mi amigo. Salud _!"_

_“I am honored to be Héctor Rivera's best man today --"_

_"I am the one who is willing to do what it takes to seize my moment... Whatever it takes._ "

 

Breath catching in his chest, he spun around so fast he nearly toppled over. Standing there, at the entrance of the ally was none other than Ernesto de la Cruz.

 "Miss me, dear friend?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready?!?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ernesto is a bastard man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some assault of a sexual nature. No actual rape tho.   
> Hopefully this is in character? And not too short? idk I have issues with mincing words and not saying enough.

"Héctor, I'm so glad to see you. You seem to be doing well, or at least better than you were last time we met."

Marginally. A bit. He certainly didn't _feel_ like he was doing so great at the moment. Mostly due to the manifestation of human garbage which stood before him. Héctor expressed this sentiment in a barrage of increasingly colorful and inappropriate language.

"Now, now, there's no need for that. I just came by to say hello and to congratulate you on your reunion with your precious family," Ernesto interrupted with a sneer. "Also to let you know that you're welcome."

"Why would I be thankful for anything you've done!?"

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be back with your family, would you? No one would know who you are, either. You'd still be one of the Nearly Forgotten, damned to wait for the Final Death in that filthy dump you called home. But now you're famous!"

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been estranged in the first place! And don’t talk about Shantytown like that!" Héctor was so angry at this point that he almost forgot he was scared. He was, though. He could feel himself trembling, in both rage and terror.

As they argued, Ernesto had been approaching Héctor, while Héctor had been backing away. Despite Héctor's efforts, the distance between the two was closing. He had to get away. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to run, but there was no easy way out. Maybe if he could get his suspenders off, he could pull the same trick he tried last month at the bridges. It was worth a shot.

"Oh well. At least we got some good times out of it, right? Remember that last night we had together? I at least made…things a little more pleasant than they could have been."

Héctor gaped, flabbergasted. What?

"Aw, come on Héctor, you know I love you. What else could you possibly need me to do to prove it?"

"You son of a bitch! You --"

Héctor was cut off by Ernesto closing the distance between the two of them. Abruptly, he was pulled into an unyielding and harsh kiss.

 

The world shuddered.

 

Héctor attempted to break away, but one of his arms was trapped between him and Ernesto, while the other was gripped painfully tight by Ernesto. With his back against the wall, there was nowhere to escape to.

A thumb caressed his hip.

 

The world shattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some ass kicking next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ernesto gets the beat down of his life. Everyone is concerned for Hector.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :l  
> >:V  
> Ernesto is a bad man.
> 
> Thanks for the reviews everyone! Writing this fic was the best decision I've made in a long time. It's doing wonders for my confidence in my writing skills. :D

"Um, m-maybe you should sit down, Imelda…" Julio suggested.

"Maybe SOMEONE should have stopped my husband from wandering off when something is obviously wrong!"

Oscar and Felipe spoke up.

" _Hermana,_ he probably just --"

"Needed some time --"

"To think things over," they finished in tandem.

"Besides," Victoria chimed in, "We all know you aren't really angry. You're just worried, like the rest of us."

"He should have been home by now. He promised he'd be home by now."

No one had an answer to that.

"Julio, what did you two talk about earlier, anyway?" Rosita asked.

"Rosita, I already told you, it's up to him to tell everyone."

Imelda gazed down her nose commandingly. "Julio."

Just his name was enough to make the man relent.

"Alright. Well, he basically told me some things about…about Ernesto de la Cruz." Everyone tensed. "Apparently, uh, the few months leading up to his m-murder weren't so great, and he…said that last week when he woke up hollerin', it was cause he remembered some stuff that happened while he was dying. He wasn't very specific about it though. I got the feeling he was leaving something important out of his story."

"Any clues to what?" Rosita asked.

"He wasn't very clear, but he seemed to keep trying to tell me that Ernesto did something, other than poison him I mean, but he couldn't quite spit it out. All he managed to say was that…that dying hurt a lot."

Imelda looked devastated. The twins, who had known Héctor in life and accepted him as an older brother, looked nearly as upset.

"You couldn't have known, dear," Rosita assured Imelda.

The family lapsed into silence for a moment. Finally, Imelda stood up. "Sitting here is accomplishing nothing. We need to find Héctor.  I _know_ something is wrong. Oscar, Felipe, Julio: you're with me and Pepita. Victoria and Rosita should stay here incase Héctor returns before us."

And with that, the search began.

________________________________

 

The search took far less time than any of them had expected, especially considering how long last month's frantic search for Miguel had taken. A cursory search of Shantytown made clear that Héctor had already left. They were passing by a large group of pedestrians when Pepita suddenly stopped, then immediately broke into a run. Scrambling to keep up, the others followed the Alebrije through several narrow, winding alleys. As they rounded the corner of the final alleyway, the sight that greeted them stopped them in their tracks.

Ernesto de la Cruz was kissing Héctor. Héctor, who seemed on the verge of tears, who seemed to be shaking violently enough to fly apart at any second. 

Before anyone else could move, Imelda Rivera had thrown her shoe and sprinted after it, other shoe raised in hand above her head. The thrown shoe absolutely _nailed_ Ernesto in the side of the head, sending him stumbling back, head quite literally spinning. Ernesto barely had time to recover before he felt the onslaught of a shoe with a century's worth of grief behind it. Ernesto's weakening protests were nearly drowned out by the smack of the boot against his skull as well as Imelda's furious shouts.

 A beat later, and Oscar and Pepita rushed over to restrain the two. Meanwhile, Felipe and Julio rushed to Héctor's side.

"How dare you," snarled Imelda, as she struggled against Oscar's grasp. "How dare you!"

"Imelda leave him, we have to call the police, and hurting him will only get you in trouble!"

"How dare I? How dare you! You're the one who stole him from me! He was mine until you showed up! Everything was perfect until he met you!" 

Felipe and Julio ignored the shouting that continued in the background. Héctor, who had been leaning against the wall and staring blankly at the at the middle distance, slid down the wall to the ground. Felipe and Julio knelt next to Héctor. When Julio reached out to touch Héctor, Felipe gently grabbed his wrist and shook his head. "Héctor," Felipe said quietly. No response. He snapped his fingers in front of Héctor. "Héctor," he tried, louder this time. Felipe and Julio exchanged worried glances. "Julio, go get the police. Ernesto needs to be arrested…I'll stay here." With a nod, Julio was up and running. 

"Oscar!"

Oscar glanced back, nearly losing his grip on Imelda in the process. He was currently more concerned about her escaping than Ernesto, who was safely pinned under Pepita's paws. Seeing the state of Héctor and Felipe's frantic look, he turned back. " _Hermana_ , Héctor needs us. Let's leave this trash to the police, shall we?"

Imelda knew he was right. She took a deep breath and set aside her fury; Ernesto could wait. Together they turned and joined Felipe. By the time they reached the pair, Héctor's head had dropped to rest on his knees.

"Héctor, mi amor, say something," Imelda pleaded.

Héctor said nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The twins get some back story.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector's back. He and Felipe have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little nervous about this chapter. There wasn't like...a whole lot of character development for Oscar and Felipe, so I'm kind of just winging it.

Héctor blinked. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes were his knees, and the bed below them. bed? Wait. Wait, wait, wait….What? Time to take stock. Every one of his bones ached, especially his head, which was resting on his knees. And…he was sitting on a bed with his back against the wall. To his left, he heard a page turn. Slowly, he lifted his head. He was in his room at home. Felipe sat reading in a chair by his side.

"Ah, Héctor," Felipe smiled warmly as he looked up from his book. "The others will be glad to see you up."

"Felipe…I have to confess…I am very confused right now."

Felipe's smile faded slightly. "Ah. What is the last thing you remember?"

"I…I went to Shantytown after I hit Imelda?"

"Yes."

"And then I was coming home. I ducked into an alleyway to avoid a crowd. I think I took a wrong turn, and I wound up at a dead end. A-and. And Ernesto…He --" Héctor buried his face back in his knees, and began to tremble.

"Hey, hey, it's…well it's not okay, but it's over. He can't get you."

"How did I get here?"

"You were in shock. After we…apprehended Ernesto, Oscar and I brought you back here while Julio went with Imelda to the police station. You've been really out of it for a couple of hours."

A pause while Felipe hesitated.

"Héctor…I have to ask. We have to know so we can help you…did Ernesto rape you? The night you died?"

Héctor took a deep breath and steeled himself. "…Yes," he whispered.

Strangely, it was almost a relief to admit it to both himself and Felipe. At the same time, it felt horrible, and if he had a stomach, it would be lurching.

Felipe reached out, hand stopping some distance away before Héctor could flinch. An invitation. Héctor grasped it like a lifeline.

"It'll be hard. Living with something like this will always be hard, but it will get easier to deal with, eventually. We're here for you Héctor, and we aren't going anywhere this time."

How would he know? How would Felipe know _anything_ that Héctor had been through? Héctor frowned.

"I know what it's like better than you'd expect, Héctor."

Wait. Could Felipe read minds? What a plot twist.

"I can't read minds, but I know you're thinking that I can't possibly relate. That's because I've…I've been there…

Uh, a while after you…left, while Oscar and I were still in high school, I got involved with this girl. Long story short, she was abusive, and she never took no for an answer. I just went along with it until one day she got me and Oscar mixed up. Oscar finally figured out what was going on and helped me get away from her but. Dealing with that sort of thing was…really rough for a long time. Oscar and Imelda helped a lot, though. The regret and hurt never go away, but you do learn to live with it. Eventually. We'll help you get there."

Oh. Héctor had no idea. It was both horrifying and comforting that someone knew what he was going through.

"Thank you."

" _Por supuesto, mi hermano_."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short intermission before we start on whats up with Imelda and Julio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short. I'm a little...intoxicated atm. I'll maybe post another update tonight haha.
> 
> Oh yeah, to those of you who want to know more about Oscar and Felipe. I will probably write another fic about them after this one, since they are getting so much positive feedback :)

Héctor and Felipe sat in a comfortable silence for a long moment, until there was a knock at the door. Oscar stuck his head in. The rest of his body followed shortly after. "Ah, Héctor!" He smiled at seeing Héctor looking at him, "The others will be glad to see you up!"  
"That's what I said!"  
"It's almost like --"  
"We're twins!"  
The two laughed as though this were an old joke. Héctor managed to crack a grin.  
"Anyway, Rosita wanted to know how you two would like your tea."  
"You know what I like, dear brother."  
They looked at Héctor expectantly.  
"Uh, I'm, I'm good, thanks."  
The two exchanged glances.  
"Wow, Héctor is braver than I thought."  
"So courageous!"  
Héctor was not a brave man. "Uh, Chamomile?" He hesitantly asked.  
"That is a wise decision," the two answered.  
Oscar left without another word to tell the others that Héctor was up and wanted chamomile tea.  
Felipe glanced sympathetically at Héctor. "Rosita makes tea when she's worried. A regular old mother hen, she is. It's best to just drink it, heh."  
A pause.  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
"Not right now, if that's okay."  
"It's okay. Let's go get some tea."  
And they did.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is so short and late! I had a busy few days and then I kind of hit a wall on where to go next. But I think I have an idea now.

"Um, where is Imelda," asked Héctor. He hadn't see her since…well, since he had hit her. He cringed at the memory. And then he hadn't come home on time, and…wait, how had the others known to come looking for him? He asked as much.   
"Well, when you didn't come home on time, we were all worried! Especially Imelda. So we went looking for you. Pepita found you." Rosita explained. "Imelda is…at the police station still."  
Héctor felt awful for having worried Imelda and the others. He frowned as his thoughts caught up to what Rosita said. "Wait, why is she at the police station?"  
The others exchanged glances.   
"Uh, well --"  
"You see --"  
"They wanted her for questioning," Victoria cut in. "She attacked Ernesto de la Cruz."  
Oh.  
"Oh," said Héctor.  
"And with good reason," Rosita exclaimed, her hands on her hips.   
"That reminds us --"  
"The police said they'll need a statement from you soon--"  
"When you're ready, of course."  
Héctor didn't know if he'd ever be ready.  
"I'm ready; let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Does Hectors statement go well? Will Imelda be arrested? What happens to Ernesto? We'll find out at least one of these things!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector makes his statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back baaaaaaabyyyyy. I got sick (AGAIN), and I hit a rut in the narrative (AGAIN), and then I've been working on some other stuff, so this chapter's been a bit delayed. Thanks for being patient!

As the group approached the police station, Héctor's apprehension grew. How was he going to tell the police something he could barely admit to himself and Felipe earlier?

Sensing his tension, Felipe approached Héctor. "It will be okay. Just try your best to answer their questions. Once you're done, we'll get Imelda and Julio and go home." 

Héctor's smile was strained, but it was there. He had his family here to support him. He would get through this.

Together, they entered the police station.

When they reached the front desk, an officer guided Héctor down the hall to a room containing little more than a table. It was a familiar room to Héctor, who had been in the station many times. Héctor was nervous about being separated from the others. He could do this, he reminded himself as he sat at the table.

The door swung open. Two officers entered the room. Unfortunately, Héctor recognized one of them. "Rivera."

"Ah, Officer Nuñez." Héctor waved sheepishly; Officer Nuñez and his relationship had been hostile from the start, ever since the Churro Cart Incident of 1954.

"Hello Señor Rivera, I am Officer Martìnez. I see that my partner doesn't require an introduction," the other officer said. She was young and had an idealistic air to her that bordered on naivety. Héctor had never seen her before; she must be new.

"Héctor Rivera is…well known in this precinct as something of a trouble maker."

"This is true, and I apologize for that," Héctor added with his most charming smile, hoping that it would cover up his nerves. Nuñez rolled his eyes.   

"Señor Rivera, can you tell us what happened earlier this evening?"

Héctor began to describe his evening. He got to Ernesto kissing him, and then stopped short.

"What happened next?"

"I… was in my room, at home."

"…you don't remember how you got there?" Nuñez's voice hinted at disapproval. But then again, his voice had inflected disapproval from the moment he and Héctor had met.

Héctor shook his head.

"Has Ernesto de la Cruz done anything like this before? "

He could do this. He could do this.

He opened his mouth but no sound would come out. Closing it, he nodded.

"When?"

"T-the night he killed me. In 1921," his voice cracked.

Nuñez scoffed. Martìnez elbowed him.

"Can you tell us what happened then?"

Héctor glanced nervously at Nuñez, who so far seemed content to just glower from across the table.

"Um…We were on tour…I wanted to go home…" Haltingly, the story came out. Right up until he was back in the motel room. It felt like the words were stuck in his throat.

"Well? We don't have all night, Rivera."

Martìnez elbowed Nuñez. "Take your time, Señor."

Héctor gripped the seat of the chair tightly. He could do this, he could do this. "Herapedme," He forced out in a rush.

Silence.

Then a derisive snort. "You expect us to believe that?"

"Ricardo!"

"Martìnez, you don't know this guy. He's a liar! A criminal! Just look at his rap sheet; it's a mile long. I've gotta admit, Rivera, you've told some tall tales, but this one takes the cake."

They didn't believe him. Of course they wouldn't. What kind of cop believed a well known criminal? Over the course of a century, Héctor had damned any credibility his word had ever possessed. Hell, he’d thrown his word out the window the day he left Imelda and Coco.

"Nuñez, _outside now._ "

The two left the room, with Nuñez still grumbling. He listened as their murmurs slowly grew into a full blown argument, complete with yelling.

" _What_ do you think you're doing?"

"C'mon you can't seriously be buying this bullshit. Besides, why does it even matter? Even if it did really happen, you know we can't arrest people for crimes they did in life."

"It's important to know! If he wants to file a restraining order or try to press charges, the statement will be useful."

"Press charges? For getting kissed? Worst de la Cruz will get is a sentencing for battery. It's basically a slap on the wrist."

"I don't care, it's his decision!  How dare you treat him like that!"

"I --"

"No! I don't want to hear it. You don't _ever_ talk to an assault victim like that. This is going in the report. I will not work with you. You're off the case. I'm filing for a new partner."

"That's not your call --"

"And you think the chief will let you back in that room after this?"

A pregnant pause. Nuñez muttered something. Footsteps away from the room. The door opened.

"I'm so, so sorry about that -- shit."

The room was spinning slowly, as though the world's axis was slightly off kilter. Héctor could feel himself trembling, could hear the rattle of his bones. The air burned when he breathed it.

"Señor Rivera, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"

A strange choking noise rose out of him.

"Shit. Shit. Your family is in the front office, I'm going to step out and send someone to get one of them for you."

She was gone.

It hurt. He could feel his death like it was happening right now. He was still in the room, in the precinct, but he could feel it. He could feel hands ghosting over him. Blood in his mouth. The agony as his nonexistent muscles cramped.

"Señor Rivera. Héctor. You're safe. You are at the police station. Nod if you know where you are." The officer was back. How long had she been speaking?

Where was he? Yes, the police station. He was in a familiar room, although everything was spinning, which was weird. They should really fix that. He nodded.

"Okay, good. That's good."

A door opening. Two sets of footsteps.

Héctor felt like he was falling. The feeling was almost the same as when he'd been thrown into that sinkhole with Miguel. But this time, it wouldn't stop.

"Héctor." Ah. Oscar. That must mean the other set of footsteps is Felipe. "Héctor, we need you to take some deep breaths. Breathe with me."

Technically, he didn't _need_ to breathe, but it helped. Sort of.

Until he felt hands on his hips in a vice-like grip.

He shrieked, and flinched hard enough to fall off of his chair. He would have, were it not for Oscar, who caught him. Héctor futilely slapped at the phantom hands.

"Héctor, can you tell us where you are?" Oscar's voice filtered through his panic.

"Police," he managed to croak.

"Good. Can you describe the room we're in?"

"Familiar."

Oscar's brow furrowed. "Familiar?"

"Kind of. Remodeled…in '96…"

"Why were you here in '96?"

"Arrested."

"Why?"

He was calming down a little. Talking was helping to distract him, although the pressure from the hands wasn't letting up. He glanced past Oscar at where Felipe was conversing quietly with the officer.

"Hey, stay with me," Oscar said. "Why were you arrested?"

"Trespassing. Trying to get something I lost."

"What was that?"

"Truck. Friend's."

Felipe turned away from the officer. He looked furious. When he spoke, his words were clipped.

"Héctor, she's saying that you can press charges anytime. You don't have to decide right now. You gave your statement. Let's get Imelda and leave." With that, he turned and stalked from the room.

Héctor and Oscar glanced at each other. "Don't worry, it's not anything you did, Héctor. Felipe's just…he's just upset about how you were treated. He's removing himself from the situation, so he doesn't say or do something he regrets."

That made sense. It was surprising to see the normally mild-mannered man so heated, to the point where Héctor was taken aback. He nodded in understanding.

"Alright, you good to go? Great. Let's leave."

Together, they exited the room, leaving the ghost of Ernesto's hands behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: We take some time to appreciate Imelda.


	13. Update on Story Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so this is not abandoned! I was in the hospital for a week in March, and I've been trying to get my life under control since then. Work right now is rough, but since I teach, I'll have a break for the Summer. I'm hoping to try and get another chapter in sometime soon! So sorry for the wait.

~Chapter to be added~


End file.
